


An Unbreakable Vow

by DroughtofApathy



Series: A Thousand Lifetimes [21]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Class Differences, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Forced Marriage, Hate Sex, I'm sorry that character had to die the way they did, Racial Prejudice from the in-laws, animals being adorable, but it had to be done, i may have cried while writing that part, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 18:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DroughtofApathy/pseuds/DroughtofApathy
Summary: When the marriage laws went into effect, Charmaine thought herself wealthy enough to bypass such horrors and Kristina hoped she'd be simply overlooked. Instead they were stuck with each other. And though both women detested the other, marrying a sworn enemy did sound marginally better than life imprisonment. Marginally.





	An Unbreakable Vow

The music began, and the crowd rose. Some tried to give the star of the show a smile, but they quickly looked away seeing her somber expression. Charmaine wanted the earth to just swallow her up before she reached the end of the long walk, because she knew once she reached the archway, her life was over as she knew it.

When Charmaine Prescott had imagined her wedding in her childhood, she thought it would be the happiest day of her life. She imagined gorgeous flower arrangements, a live band, and a beautiful reception afterward. And all of that came true. But the woman standing at the end of the aisle was not the love of her life. Far from it indeed. No, Charmaine Prescott and Kristina Sato hated each other with a burning passion.

They didn’t choose this by any means, but when the marriage laws went into effect, and everyone around them scrambled to hook themselves onto another, Charmaine still believed she could use her family name to avoid the consequences, and Kristina refused to play the game. But as the threat of imprisonment or banishment loomed ever closer, both women had separately cut their losses and gone to see who was left.

Their options had been limited. Well, nonexistent really. The list of women who requested to be married to other women had quickly dwindled to just two names, leaving Kristina and Charmaine to each other. And though both women detested the other, marrying a sworn enemy did sound marginally better than life imprisonment.

Most couples of the marriage law wed quickly, but most couples were not one-half Prescott. Charmaine’s family refused to give up this opportunity to throw a lavish celebration complete with expensive drinks, fancy venues, and two almost sickeningly exorbitant wedding dresses.

Charmaine glanced down at her gown, tracing the seed pearls on the low-cut bodice. Her mother had insisted on this particular dress, and Charmaine just didn’t care enough about this sham of a marriage to protest. Her only joy was that, much to her chagrin, Kristina had been forced to wear a dress as well. A white dress, to her horror in fact. Kristina did not wear dresses often and she never wore white. Charmaine still could picture Kristina’s petulant expression as the tailor shook his head over how much fabric they’d have to cut for it to fit her tiny frame.

She snapped back to reality, gritting her teeth as she came to a stop just under the rose archway. Kristina kept her gaze steadily ahead, refusing to even look at her bride-to-be. Charmaine didn’t care one bit, haughtily listening to the ordained begin his speech.

She barely remembered saying her vows, but knew she must have been unsuccessful in keeping her hostility to herself because both her mother and Kristina glared daggers at her. Charmaine’s mother may not have approved of someone as plebian as Kristina Sato, but she would not have her daughter make herself out to be the villain.

Tempering her overwhelming urge to ask Kristina if she would need a stepstool to reach her, she instead tilted her head down ever so slightly as she waited for the smaller woman to initiate the kiss. Kristina looked both mortified and livid as she struggled to stand on her toes in her already stupidly high heels. They kissed for barely a second before springing apart. Charmaine wasn’t even entirely sure their lips had come into full contact. She planned to thoroughly scrub her mouth just in case.

The applause, stunted and unsure, tapered off fairly quickly as the guests all made their way to the reception. Most of them had only shown up because they knew how well the Prescott’s threw a party.

Charmaine had promised herself – and more importantly her mother – she would not fight with Kristina until after the wedding, but the woman was making it exceedingly hard to do. As revenge, possibly, for the kiss debacle, Kristina seemed intent on antagonizing her new wife as much as she possibly could. She refused to allow Charmaine to lead during their traditional first dance, and though the taller woman had to grudgingly admit Kristina was good at it, she didn’t have to like it. That wasn’t all. No, Kristina just had to make subtle digs at Charmaine and her family the entire time.

“Is there any reason your family can’t see past their own noses? Well, I suppose it should come as no surprise considering your abysmal ability to consider anyone but yourself, princess.” Katrina’s tone sounded perfectly pleasant, but her expression said anything but. She scowled into her champagne flute.

Charmaine turned her nose up, arching an eyebrow haughtily as she downed her glass in one gulp. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to make this night bearable. She kept drinking, moving from the – admittedly fantastic – champagne to hard liquor shots, only stopping after Katrina made a snide comment about being unaware she was marrying a drunkard.

With a smirk, Charmaine began formulating a plan in her mind. When at last the reception began winding down, she led her new wife to a chair, and gracefully lowered herself down in front of her. Kristina rolled her eyes, extending her right leg ever so slightly. Charmaine primly raised Kristina’s delicate dress above her knees before suddenly yanking it up to reveal the woman’s lacy black panties to the attentive crowd.

Kristina gasped, shoving the skirts back down, but not before most everyone got a good look. She glared daggers at Charmaine as the redhead smugly reached back under to drag the garter off her slim leg. She stood, flinging it off into the crowd. It seemed like a foolish tradition considering everyone had to marry before their twenty-fifth birthday due to the new laws.

Kristina stood, slightly red even with her darker skin. She ignored the immature hoots and hollers from the intoxicated young men, and instead tossed her bouquet with little fanfare. They both just wanted this ordeal to be over. With a parting wave, they linked arms grudgingly and hurried into the hotel. Immediately after turning out of sight, they simultaneously shoved the other away. Charmaine, more than a little tipsy, stumbled slightly, and Katrina, easily pushed, nearly tripped.

They silently rode the elevator to the top floor where Charmaine’s family had booked the bridal suite for them. The second they closed the door behind them, Kristina turned on Charmaine in a rage.

“You exposed my underwear to your entire family!” she angrily snapped, beginning to flush with embarrassed rage. “Don’t you think I’ve been humiliated enough tonight?” She flung her heels aside, beginning to undo her elaborate hairstyle.

Charmaine smirked, relishing in the memory of Kristina’s shocked and mortified face. She poked around her hair for her own pins, letting her long red locks tumble down in bouncy curls. If she had been more forgiving a woman, she might have noticed how pretty Kristina had looked in her fancy clothes and braided hairstyle, but she wasn’t so she didn’t.

Instead, Charmaine watched in amusement as Kristina, now with her insanely long hair completely free, struggled to undo the row of buttons down her back. Only when Kristina, beyond frustrated and too proud to ask for help from the likes of Charmaine, reached for a scissor did the taller woman intervene.

“My family paid good money for this dress, and you will not ruin it with your ineptitude,” Charmaine said primly, starting on the buttons. She deftly undid them, revealing Kristina’s tanned back. Unwittingly, she brushed a finger across the smooth skin, feeling Kristina’s muscles tense in response. “There. I trust you can manage the rest.”

Kristina stepped forward, shoving the dress down off her hips, and carefully hanging it in its protective bag. Prudishly, Charmaine looked away, twisting around to undo her own buttons that were, admittedly, easier to manage on one’s own. By the time she looked back, Kristina had changed into a camisole and black cotton pants, and wiped her only makeup – her lipstick – off her face.

Pointedly, Charmaine twirled her finger, indicating that she wanted Kristina to turn around. Kristina just raised an eyebrow, somehow managing to make the same motion look entire different from when Charmaine did it. Blushing hotly, Charmaine turned her back, quickly stepping out of the dress and throwing her red nightie over her head. It was, she realized belatedly, entire too sexy to be wearing around a woman she despised.

She took her bra off under the nightie, and slipped into a more comfortable pair of underwear than the lacy thong she’d been sporting. Her dress went on a hook in front of Kristina’s and her lingerie in a pile on the ottoman. Kristina had left hers on the dresser. The bra matched the underwear that Charmaine had already gotten a good look at.

“Well, just be grateful you were even wearing these flimsy things,” Charmaine said, waving disdainfully at the underwear. “You could have easily treated my relatives to a sight of your bush instead.” Kristina didn’t seem to take that as a comfort. Muttering under her breath, she threatened to one day show Charmaine’s off.

“Then maybe we’ll finally answer the question of whether or not you’re a natural redhead,” she said, cleaning off her glasses.

“I _am_ a natural redhead,” Charmaine insisted, sputtering. Kristina just smirked, saying that she wasn’t so sure because no one else in the Prescott family seemed to share the genes. “You know what? Believe what you want. I’m going to have a shower.” Charmaine stormed off into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Kristina rolled her eyes. Gods, she couldn’t believe she’d married into the most uppity, snobbish, elitist family in the entire world. She honestly wasn’t even so sure she was exaggerating at this point.

Tempted to settle into the middle of the bed out of spite, Kristina instead, curled up on the left edge, drawing the covers up to her neck. She didn’t take her glasses off though, instead just shutting the lights and willing herself to sleep.

Somehow, despite it being a king-sized bed, and them starting on opposite sides, both women woke to find themselves in a somewhat compromising position. Their legs lay entangled, with Kristina’s thigh shoved into the apex of Charmaine’s thighs. Charmaine nuzzled into Kristina’s neck, her arms pulling the smaller woman flush up against her, and Kristina’s hand had worked its way under her red nightie to rest on her hip.

They sprung apart, both turning red, Charmaine significantly more so with her pale skin. She yanked her nightie back down, glaring at the other woman who just straightened her glasses, and crossed her arms.

“We never speak of this again,” Charmaine said, swinging her long legs over the edge of the bed and immediately darting into the bathroom. Kristina waited for nearly thirty minutes before growing agitated. She knocked on the door, harshly reminding Charmaine that she needed to use the bathroom too. After another minute of no reply, Kristina grabbed a hairpin from the massive pile and easily jimmied the lock open.

Charmaine shrieked, curling into a ball on the shower floor. Kristina rolled her eyes, grabbing her toothbrush.

“In case you were too drunk to remember,” she said. “We are married, whether we like it or not so we’re going to end up seeing each other naked eventually. Now, Miss. Half-An-Hour-Showers, can you stop wasting water? Cape Town’s approaching Day Zero, princess.”

Disgruntled, Charmaine hurriedly wrapped herself in a towel, grabbing the hair dryer. She pointedly ignored Kristina as the smaller woman turned her back and started stripping off her clothes. The redhead noticed that, in spite of her big speech, Kristina wasn’t nearly as comfortable with showing off her body as she said.

So, naturally, once Kristina stepped into the shower, Charmaine grabbed the remaining towels, and her clothes. If she wanted to be all self-righteous, she’d damn well have to come out buck naked.

Ten minutes later, Kristina poked her head out, glowering at Charmaine who just smiled sweetly. She’d dressed completely, and done her makeup, making Kristina feel even more exposed. Holding a hand towel to her body, Kristina hurried to her bag, pulling on her clothes with brutal efficiency.

They spent the limo ride back to the city in silence. Today they were moving into their shared apartment neither had seen yet. It was a gift from Charmaine’s filthy rich parents, though Kristina felt wildly uncomfortable with it, and had protested. But Charmaine refused to live in whatever slum hole Kristina thought was proper living.

“They’ll have put your things in the other bedroom,” Charmaine said, unlocking the door to the penthouse. Kristina stared at the sleek and modern looking condo incredulously. It was two floors, for god sakes. Not to mention the third-floor rooftop.

A scrabbling across the floor diverted their attention, and a tiny white fluff came bounding out excitedly. Kristina’s face split into a grin as she scooped up the little dog.

“Hey, sweetie,” she cooed. “Meet my new wife from hell. Daska, this is Charmaine, and she’s a thorn in my side. Charmaine, meet Daska.” Kristina put down the little dog who promptly bounded over to Charmaine, wagging her tail enthusiastically.

“You can’t keep that thing here,” Charmaine said, nudging the dog away with her leg. “I’m allergic.”

“She’s hypoallergenic,” Kristina countered, folding her arms. Charmaine knew there was no way she’d be willing to give up her dog.

“Yes, well, I have a cat, and they just won’t get along,” Charmaine said. Right on cue, a haughty looking feline came waltzing up to them. She sniffed judgmentally at Kristina’s leg before circling her. Then, she went over to Daska, nuzzling the little dog who happily wagged her tail. Both owners stared at their pets incredulously.

Grumbling, Charmaine muttered that Nala didn’t usually like dogs. Kristina just smirked, saying Daska loved everyone. She grabbed her bag and started moving off to explore her new…home. Both animals happily followed behind her. Charmaine tried not to feel too miffed that her own cat decided to betray her. She headed off to the master bedroom, locking the door behind her.

She flung her suitcase into a corner, sinking heavily onto her bed. She growled in frustration, running her hands through her hair. The ring on her finger snagged in her curls. It wasn’t a cheap bit of jewelry, much to her surprise. Kristina had insisted she could manage at least this. Charmaine turned the band of metal in her palm, plucking out the strand of hair that god caught in the prongs.

It was simple, but elegant, and it didn’t irritate her sensitive skin. She supposed she had to give Kristina Sato that much credit. And the stones were ruby. Well, Charmaine scoffed, it was no secret she loved the color red. No use getting so emotional over something so benign. She kept the ring on. If only for propriety’s sake.

She emerged from her room around lunch, taking the elevator up to the second level. She found Kristina puttering around in the kitchen, having evidently reorganized the entire thing.

Charmaine stood uncertainly at the island until Kristina rolled her eyes and offered her some of what she was making for lunch. Charmaine sighed dramatically, nodding with extreme reluctance. Kristina just scoffed, sliding a plate of what looked like chicken and some yellow rice towards her.

Charmaine didn’t want to admit she was more hungry than she let on, having not eaten anything since the reception last night. She dug in, and instantly regretted it the moment the spice touched her tongue.

“Jesus Christ!” she cursed, rushing to the fridge to grab herself some water. “Are you trying to fucking kill me?” Kristina just laughed, taking a mouthful of the spicy rice. If Charmaine couldn’t handle the heat, she should have stayed out of the kitchen. Charmaine sat down determinedly, picking back up her fork.

The food wasn’t bad, really. It actually tasted really good, but her eyes still watered, and nose ran. She hurriedly wiped at her face, not wanting Kristina to see her weakness. They ate in silence, and to Charmaine’s displeasure, Kristina didn’t seem at all affected by the heat.

“I suppose you’re used to this sort of food in whatever jungle you come from in Asia,” Charmaine commented. Kristina stiffened.

“Charmaine,” she said in a deadly calm voice. “You can insult my clothes, my status, my entire life if you want. Fine, I can deal with that. But don’t you ever, _ever_ , mention my race. Understood? God, it’s bad enough your family’s racist. I don’t need those sort of microaggressions in my own damn home.”

“I’m sorry about the comment,” Charmaine said, growing angry. “But don’t you dare accuse my family of-”

“Of what?” Kristina interrupted. Charmaine gasped, unused to being cut off. “Your mother told her friends what a shame it was her daughter had to marry someone ‘with such poor genetic makeup.’ Your brother was so delighted to inform me how much he enjoyed watching lesbian Asian porn, and hoped I’d be a pretty little china doll for his sister in bed. Your grandfather just raved at me saying he blamed me for the entirety of the second world war. I’m not even Japanese. So, yeah, your family is a bunch of uppity white racists, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take care of the dishes, and then I’ll be in my room pretending you don’t exist. You’re in charge of dinner, princess.”

Kristina grabbed their plates, furiously scrubbing them clean. Charmaine just huffed, taking the stairs to the rooftop.

“Mother, did you or did you not insult my wife’s genetic makeup.” Charmaine spoke harshly into the phone, knowing the truth already. “You know what? No. She may be a lot of things, and I may hate her very being, but I will not subject her to this racist behavior. Goodbye.” She hung up,

It wasn’t until later that Charmaine realized Kristina expected her to cook, and Charmaine had never lifted a wooden spoon in her life. But, unwilling to listen to Kristina’s smug criticism, she grabbed a cookbook off the shelf, and started rifling through the cabinets to find what she needed. Considering Kristina had neurotically alphabetized the cabinets after separating by type, it didn’t take that long.

“How hard can it be?” she murmured to herself. The cooks at her childhood home always seemed to pull it off easily enough, so why shouldn’t she. Two hours later, she found out just how difficult the people who worked in the kitchen had it. Covered in bits of spices, and sweating profusely, she cursed under her breath. It was just supposed to be a simple fettuccine alfredo; something she’d had countless times.

 The salad had been simple enough, even if the vegetables were all cut up unevenly, but she’d gotten distracted focusing on the butter, and _somehow_ managed to overcook the pasta. Then, trying to strain it, she successfully managed to burn her skin, _and_ the sauce. Growling in frustration, she took the sauce off the heat, steadfastly ignoring the burnt parts and just scraping as much away as she could, salvaging the rest.

She threw it all into a large pot, and put the lid on it. Then, because she refused to eat dinner across from Kristina Sato looking like she did, she raced back downstairs, quickly cleaning herself up, and redoing her hair.

She managed to go back upstairs, reheat the food, and set everything out before Kristina sat down. The smaller woman raised an eyebrow, and Charmaine grit her teeth, bracing herself for the criticism.

“You’ve never cooked a day in your life,” Kristina said. It was not a question. She scoffed. “God, you’re thirty-three years old and totally helpless. Tell you what, princess. I’ll do the cooking, and you take care of the cleanup. See if you can bear getting those pretty nails dirty.”

That arrangement lasted all of three days. After Charmaine continuously kept cleaning below Kristina’s impossible standards, the woman had a fit, and all but banned her from the kitchen entirely. Charmaine couldn’t say she wasn’t happy. Though it was a bit humiliating to be scolded like a child for being incompetent.

Of course, Charmaine saying it was only right that Kristina do the cooking and cleaning considering it was her money that bought the place, and her money that kept them fed and clothed, didn’t help matters.

“Your money? More like your daddy’s money. I don’t mind cooking because I like being able to eat something and not feel afraid about being poisoned. I can do the cleaning in this house because I like things done a certain way and you’ll just mess it up. But I am not your maid, Charmaine. I’m your wife. So, you’d better find something you can do without fucking up.” Kristina went back to scrubbing at the countertops.

And sure, maybe as much as she hated her wife, Charmaine felt a little bit guilty. So, grudgingly, she started to do the laundry. It wasn’t as difficult as she thought. She separated the lights and the darks, didn’t overfill the detergent, and sent most of her own clothes to the dry cleaners.

This arrangement didn’t change anything. They antagonized each other every chance they got. Considering they both worked from home – Charmaine in an executive position of her family’s company, and Kristina as a publishing editor – it was any wonder they hadn’t killed each other yet. Childishly, both admitted, they started purposefully doing things to piss the other off. Just little annoyances, and pranks.

Kristina tied all of Charmaine’s bras and panties to a string and dangled them off the terrace. She’d had to retrieve them while cursing out a handful of douchbags below. After that, Charmaine started thinking creatively. Because regardless of what Kristina thought, she did have imagination.

Charmaine responded by putting the groceries on the highest shelves, and leaving remotes on the top of the hutch. Watching Kristina clamber up onto cabinets, and stand atop chairs was wildly satisfying. It felt good to see the smug woman have to take herself down a notch because her pride refused to allow her to ask for help.

Because she saw how particular Kristina was about everything having its place, Charmaine also began switching the order of things. Just shifting down a few things, or swapping one spice bottle for another. And always, Kristina would find whatever it was that Charmaine changed and immediately fix it.

That seemed to get to Kristina more than anything. To get herself some vengeance, Kristina somehow managed to get into the water pipes, and turn Charmaine’s shower icy cold. The redhead shrieked, darting out of the shower to a smug Kristina.

“You seem awfully eager to see me naked,” Charmaine snapped, grabbing a towel. Kristina just rolled her eyes, telling Charmaine not to flatter herself.

“Least I know the carpet matches the drapes,” Kristina merely said, starting to saunter out. Charmaine turned as red as the hair in question, shoving her out the door.

She waited an entire week before taking her own revenge. Charmaine had the keys to every room in the house, and snuck into Kristina’s room at night. The smaller woman wore only her undergarments to bed, making Charmaine’s job that much easier. Gently as she could, Charmaine lifted the tiny woman, and hurried into the elevator up to the second floor, then the stairs to the roof.

With a smirk, she deposited Kristina onto one of the lounge chairs, tossed a blanket over her, and ran back inside, locking the door behind her. Back downstairs, however, both the cat and dog were waiting for her, and neither looked particularly happy.

“Oh, relax,” Charmaine said. “It’s just a prank. She’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s go back to bed.” The animals both tilted their head, unnervingly, but trotted after her. Reluctantly, she let Daska up onto the bed with Nala, falling asleep to the sound of their soft purring.

A crash of lightning woke her up hours later. She groaned, rolling over. Daska scratched at her leg frantically. Charmaine sat bold upright, suddenly remembering Kristina. She took the steps, two at a time.

Kristina sat huddled next to the door, looking very reminiscent of a drowned rat. Charmaine wrenched open the door, physically pulling Kristina inside.

“I…I didn’t know it was going to storm tonight,” she said, looking extremely uncomfortable. “I mean, at least you had a blanket.” Kristina just sneered at her, shivering violently. Both Daska and Nala bounded over to her, licking at the droplets of water on her frozen skin.

“Really, I thought the storm might just have been the cherry on top. How did you even get me up there?” Kristina said, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. She didn’t move to go get changed, or warm herself up though. Belatedly, Charmaine realized it was because she didn’t want to track water in everywhere.

“You sleep like the dead. Look,” she said, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry, alright. It was just supposed to be a prank. I’ll get you a towel, hold on.” Kristina nodded, staring outside. They both flinched at the lightening.

Charmaine couldn’t relax for a week after that. She just knew whatever counter Kristina had planned would be a doozy. Her only consolation was that Kristina looked too small to lift her, but considering what Charmaine had seen her do to that electrician who had tried to grab her ass, she wasn’t so sure honestly.

Charmaine came home one day, still expecting to be decapitated at any moment or accosted in the bath, to find Kristina on her hands and knees, scrubbing at the kitchen floor. She was covered in what looked like flour, and muttering frantically.

“Everything alright?” Charmaine asked, secretly snapping a picture in case she needed ammunition in the future.

“No!” Kristina said harshly, surprising Charmaine with the ferocity of her tone. “No, it is not fucking alright. There is fucking flour in ever goddamn nook and cranny and it’s never going to come out. And it has your name all over it.” She growled, scrubbing harder. Charmaine rolled her eyes. Kristina looked like she was moments away from a tantrum or panic attack or something.

“Alright, calm down,” Charmaine said, turning to head back downstairs. “I can’t even take credit for this. I’ll get you some clothes and a towel. Geeze, it’s just flour. God, you’re such a…basket case. Ugh.” She disappeared downstairs, and made sure to steer clear of the second floor for a while. She knew how anal Kristina got over a mess, but really, that was just too much.

She emerged from her bedroom close to dinner time, setting the table. Charmaine honestly didn’t know why they even bothered to eat together, or why Kristina still put up with her. This weird symbiotic relationship of theirs never failed to confuse and irritate her to no end.

Being married honestly sucked. Though, Charmaine assumed it was just being married to someone she hated that did it. But really, it just was so stifling. Kristina wouldn’t let her mess up the apartment, or put her cups down on the table without a coaster, or go anywhere near the flowers on the terrace. Even her own damn one that connected to her bedroom. Not to mention the frustrating lack of sex. Not, of course, that Charmaine _desired_ Kristina. God no.

And sure, maybe she got herself off occasionally by fantasizing how she’d absolutely ravish the infuriating woman. And maybe those fantasies made her cum remarkably hard, and sure she felt stupidly awkward after the pleasure wore off, but Charmaine could handle misplaced arousal. It wasn’t like she _actually_ wanted Kristina like that.

No, Kristina was just a pretty woman. Charmaine would have been blind not to see it, but it wasn’t like Charmaine was actually attracted to her like that.

So why Charmaine felt so completely betrayed and hurt when she found her best friend and ex-girlfriend, Orpha, and Kristina in bed together she didn’t quite know. It had to be because they were fucking in _her bed_.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck!?” Charmaine bellowed, looking at the two women incredulously. “Kristina, what is wrong with you? You’re my wife, damnit, so the least you could do is respect the sanctity of our marriage.”

“Oh, relax love,” Orpha drawled, stretching out on the bed. “She’s not getting any with you so why should she turn down a perfectly good offer of a little relief?” Charmaine was less than amused, and after unceremoniously tossing Orpha out of her house, she turned on Kristina who still sat languidly in _her_ bed.

Charmaine sneered at her. Evidently Kristina had gotten more comfortable being naked around her because she didn’t bother to cover herself. Tauntingly, she told Charmaine that she just wouldn’t have been able to handle her.

“Is that a challenge?” Charmaine snapped, refusing to give in to her blush and avert her eyes. Kristina reclined against the pillows, letting the sheet fall to her lap, leaving little hidden. Charmaine felt ashamed to say she didn’t want what she saw. Growling lowly, she started stripping off her clothes, flinging them across the room. She relished in the way Kristina’s gaze followed the mess with a wince.

Charmaine expected Kristina to easily acquiesce. Or if not easily, then at least bend to her superior strength. She straddled the smaller woman’s hips, pinning down her arms. Kristina hissed, bucking her hips, and straining against Charmaine’s hold. Cleverly, Charmaine had to admit, Kristina wedged a thigh between her legs, grinding up against her center. Charmaine gasped, momentarily thrown.

That second was all it took for Kristina to wriggle out from under her hold. She didn’t escape and try to climb on top of Charmaine though, like the woman expected. Instead, she wrapped one arm around her pale back, pulling her closer, and tangled the other in her red hair. Kristina smirked, yanking at the hair tie holding her curls in place. They spilled out of their confinement, settling over her shoulders.

With Charmaine’s hair free and easy access, Kristina grabbed at it, gripping tightly. Charmaine winced, feeling a few strands snap. Their faces lay inches apart.

The first kiss was angry and rough. Wanting nothing more than to wipe that smug look off of Kristina’s face, Charmaine surged forward, smashing their lips together. The tiny woman had a narrower mouth than she did, but plumper lips. She hated her. She could feel rather than hear Kristina gasp, and taking advantage of her open mouth, she slipped her tongue in.

She expected it when Kristina bit down. Not enough to cause any real damage, but enough to hurt; enough to bleed. Charmaine jerked away, swearing hotly. She allowed herself a single second to assess the damage, before diving back in, nipping at those damned full lips.

Charmaine kept one arm planted firmly on the mattress, supporting her weight. She didn’t want to _actually_ crush Kristina to death, even if she did hate her with everything she had. Her other hand gripped Kristina’s small waist tightly, digging her nails in.

Kristina answered by clawing roughly at her back, though with her unmanicured and blunted nails, it did little damage. Charmaine didn’t even think she could leave a mark. That thought made her happy, so she indulged by grinding her hips down into Kristina’s thigh. They both groaned, low and throaty.

Charmaine wrenched their lips apart, panting heavily. Luckily, Kristina looked no less affected than she did.

“I fucking hate you,” Charmaine said, narrowing her eyes. The feeling, Kristina assured her, shoving a hand between their bodies to roughly grab at Charmaine’s breasts, was entirely mutual. This changed nothing.

Charmaine hated how she liked Kristina’s touch. Liked the harsh groping so clearly intended to be painful rather than pleasurable. Kristina twisted a hardened nipple, and though Charmaine just barely bit back a moan of pleasure, her expression must have given her away because Kristina laughed coldly.

“First to make the other cum wins,” Kristina suggested, grinding her thigh even more firmly between Charmaine’s. And Charmaine knew it wasn’t fair. Not when Kristina had gotten a head start. But she nodded anyway, forcibly adjusting her positioning so she could get a hand on Kristina’s pussy.

They both groaned at the contact. Charmaine smirked, feeling just how wet Kristina really was. Practically dripping, in fact. Without warning, she shoved two fingers into Kristina’s soaked heat. It was almost indecently tight. Immediately, Kristina cried out, struggling to get away. Charmaine instantly withdrew, flinching slightly. It shouldn’t have mattered to her that her worst enemy didn’t like it, but she told herself it wouldn’t do to make it displeasurable for Kristina. Especially if she wanted to get her off.

She ran her wet fingers along the length of Kristina’s swollen labia, almost as an apology. They laid like that for several minutes, not really moving otherwise, until finally Kristina gave a slight nod, signaling she was okay. Immediately, the pressure between Charmaine’s legs resumed.

Charmaine, intent on doing something right here, teased between Kristina’s folds, finding her clit swollen and almost throbbing. She smirked, expecting fully to win this little competition of theirs. She stroked along the hood, exploring, and listening for what Kristina liked. But maddeningly enough, the little bitch refused to make much of any noise at all. So, trying desperately to ignore the ache between her legs, and the skillful fingers at her nipples, she concentrated on how Kristina moved.

The twitches and small jerks of her hips and clit gave Charmaine all the information she needed to know. She learned exactly how Kristina liked it. How she favored heavy pressure on the clitoral hood, but too much direct contact with her actual clit would make her twitch away.

As if sensing she was losing, Kristina redoubled her efforts, knowing it was a double-edged sword. The more she bucked into Charmaine’s pussy, the more her own became stimulated. She swung one leg over Charmaine’s hips, drawing her closer. That helped considerably, if the tight gasps and barely muffled whimpers were anything to go by.

“You’re such a…fuck…such a spoiled brat,” Kristina said. That did it. Instantly Charmaine’s face knit together as she tried to keep her moans at bay. “Fuck! Yes, you fucking selfish bitch. Don’t think about anyone but – fuck – yourself, princess.” Charmaine had to bite down at Kristina’s neck to muffle her whines, now beginning to buck her own hips into Kristina’s thigh. Her wrist ached with the awkwardness of the angle, but she could feel Kristina getting closer.

“Shut up, you freeloading little bitch,” Charmaine grit out, but that just made it worse. She moaned, unable to hold back any longer. “You…dirty…crazy…neurotic pain in the ass. Fuck!” Kristina laughed lowly.

“Of course you’d get off on insulting me and being insulted,” she murmured in Charmaine’s ear. That only seemed to spur Charmaine on more. “Okay, I can work with that. You’re a fucking callous bitch…oh, fuck, you’re close. Come on, little princess. You know how much you want me to make you cum. You want this classless, batshit crazy, worthless little whore to make you lose control. Cum for me, princess.”

Charmaine knew she’d lost. Overwhelmed by her own pleasure, the hand between Kristina’s legs grew clumsy then stilled altogether. She moaned and whimpered, burying her face in Kristina’s loose and messy hair.

She came with a high-pitched cry that sounded pathetic even to her in her pleasure-induced haze. With one last shudder and defeated moan, she collapsed atop the smaller woman, trembling through the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms she’d had in a long while.

Kristina grunted, using her remaining strength to heave Charmaine off of her. She only managed to position them so Charmaine just laid on half of her, but it helped to breathe again. Kristina could still feel Charmaine’s wildly beating heart, and labored panting.

“I should…just…kick you out…now,” Charmaine said, struggling to speak. Through her glassy-eyed gaze, she just barely saw the flash of panic and uncertainty on Kristina’s face. Quickly, an apathetic and hateful look replaced it. Charmaine smirked as best she could, remembering that Kristina surely must have been ridiculously aroused. First with Orpha, then with her.

“Should have known you’d be a pillow princess,” Kristina grumbled, trying to hide how much she desperately needed to get off.

Gathering her strength, Charmaine pushed herself back up, pressing her body over Kristina’s. She grabbed her hands, pinning them above her head, and slipping her fingers back over Kristina’s clit again.

Kristina sighed, evidently more relaxed now that she knew for certain Charmaine wouldn’t just leave her high and dry. Displeased, Charmaine endeavored to make Kristina lose that relaxation by fucking her into a boneless mess.

Managing to struggle out of Charmaine’s grip, Kristina resumed tightly fisting Charmaine’s curls, and clawing down her back. She had her head thrown back, nostrils flared as her breathing grew labored. Charmaine rubbed at her clit harder, roughly pressing their mouths together. They fought, biting at each other’s lips until their blood mixed together indistinctly. Which, in hindsight, seemed less than hygienic.

Kristina came, moaning into Charmaine’s mouth as her hips frantically jerked, and grip tightened. Finally, she relaxed, falling limp. They lay entangled in each other for a long moment before remembering who they were.

Flushing, Charmaine pushed away, glaring in annoyance. Kristina shoved at her, beginning to strip the sheets off the bed. Charmaine, too confused to resist, watched in irritation.

“I can change my own damn sheets,” she said. Kristina shot her a severe look. She’d taught the hapless woman ages back. It had been with immense amusement that Charmaine observed that lesson. She had gotten a real kick out of seeing Kristina’s small form struggle to dart around the bed and secure the sheets in place. It helped even more that Charmaine’s longer body moved with ease, actually managing to make a bed faster than Kristina. Granted, it wasn’t nearly as neat or perfect, but that wasn’t the point.

Kristina didn’t answer her, merely gathering up the linens in her arms, and walking out with surprising dignity. A few moments later, without even giving Charmaine enough time to snap back into herself, Kristina returned, grabbing her clothes that she’d folded neatly on Charmaine’s bureau. Out of habit, Kristina picked up Charmaine’s scattered clothes too, tossing them into the hamper.

“You always yell at me that you’re not my maid, but you seem to enjoy picking up after me just fine,” Charmaine said, trying to regain some of her footing. Kristina just rolled her eyes, asking how her back was feeling with maddening smugness.

A new chapter of their relationship began that day. It changed nothing about how much Charmaine couldn’t stand her wife, but even she had to admit Kristina was a damn good lay. The hate sex left both women scratched and marked after their fight for dominance, but they relished in it. Charmaine loved how Kristina would move cautiously the next day, and how even with her darker skin, she could see the marks she’d left on her neck. Of course, Charmaine always did seem to come out of it with far more to show what with her pale skin.

Charmaine and Kristina both initiated this new physical thing once a week each. Kristina had reasoned it was good for them to work out their aggression and hatred on each other in a less childish and damaging way. She still hadn’t quite forgiven Charmaine for locking her outside in a storm.

Both individually and silently agreed to limit themselves to just twice a week. Any more and they might, gods forbid, become dependent on each other for pleasure, and that was simply unacceptable.

Trouble occasionally cropped up. For instance, the first time they’d both been on their periods, they’d nearly torn each other apart. Hormones raging, and desperately horny, Kristina finally pulled Charmaine into the shower which both placated their arousal, and her need for cleanliness. 

And Charmaine didn’t mind this new arrangement at all. She nearly always came out on top in that situation because of her superior height and eyesight. Blind without her glasses, Kristina reluctantly gave in, tightly gripping the shower bar as Charmaine roughly fucked her until she could barely support herself. Charmaine liked those times indeed.

Things calmed down in the Prescott-Sato household. The silly pranks ceased completely, and though the snipping and insults continued, they had less bite in them than usual. Though certainly no more fondness. No, Charmaine firmly told herself that this changed nothing. She could easily stop this…this violent hate sex whenever she wanted because it was just that. Sex. Nothing more, and certainly no feelings involved that were anything other than hatred and physical attraction.

Everything proceeded just fine. And if Charmaine started making an effort to clean up a few things like Kristina wanted, or not leaving the remote on the top shelf of the bookcase, it was just coincidence.

Two years went by, dragging at first, flying soon after. Charmaine and Kristina were…well, they didn’t go out of their way to be openly hostile, so there was that. It was still several steps away from civility and the snark never ceased, but Charmaine’s burning hatred simmered down to just a strong dislike. And, well, okay Kristina wasn’t a terrible conversationalist. She had interesting opinions. Life was…fine. Not ideal, but fine.

Then, Charmaine went away on a two-week business trip. Usually, had this been a normal marriage, Charmaine would have brought her wife with her. But it wasn’t normal, so Kristina stayed home to take care of the children. The children meaning the cat and dog. Besides, Daska had been a bit moppy lately.

She called home once, just checking up on the animals. Kristina didn’t stay on the phone long after a few moments of awkwardly making small talk and pretending they didn’t feel the way they did about each other.

Charmaine came home on a midnight flight, stumbling into the apartment sometime around two in the morning. Every light was off, leaving Charmaine to fumble with her phone until she managed to see beyond her own nose.

She shoved her suitcase into her room and was about to follow, when she heard a soft sniffling sound. Furrowing her brow, she backtracked to Kristina’s door, pressing her ear to the wood. A faint light shone from the crack near the floor, and Charmaine could clearly hear Nala purring, and a muffled sobbing.

She winced, hesitating at the doorknob. It was clearly Kristina’s business, and Charmaine didn’t need to get involved. But what if it was something actually important? She sighed heavily, lightly knocking.

Immediately, all noise stopped. Charmaine stepped back, thinking she just needed to be alone or something. But the door creaked open. Kristina, red-eyed, and looking miserable, hastily wiped at her face. Cradled like a baby in her arms was Daska. And she didn’t look okay at all.

Charmaine bit at her lip, knitting her brow together questioningly. Kristina stepped back inside, but left the door open as an invitation.

The moment Charmaine entered the room, she saw just how bad things truly were. Crumpled tissues lay scattered across the nightstand, and a glass of water stood without any coaster or napkin. Nala whined pitifully from the foot of the bed.

“What- what’s wrong with Daska?” Charmaine asked tentatively, toeing off her shoes respectfully, and perching herself on the opposite side of the bed. Kristina, futilely wiped at her eyes, trying to regain her composure.

“I took Daska to the vet on the day you left, and-” Kristina’s face crumpled as a fresh wave of tears overtook her. She turned away, burying her face in her hands. With a bit of trouble, Charmaine managed to decipher what had happened. Daska was sixteen years old. She’d simply gotten old, and Kristina hadn’t noticed the years passing.

“She- she’s,” Kristina’s breath came in quick gasps as she desperately tried to calm down. “They said it could be any day. I don’t know what to do.” With more concern in her voice that she thought possible, Charmaine asked how long she’d been waiting like this. Kristina’s silence was enough to tell her the heartbroken woman had been sitting here for two weeks straight just waiting.

Daska weakly wagged her tail at Charmaine as she gently stroked her soft fluff. Charmaine felt tears prickle at her own eyes, and she immediately wiped them away. Neither her own dignity nor her wife needed that right now.

Wringing her hands, and speaking between gasps, Kristina confided the vet had urged her to consider euthanasia. But Daska wasn’t in terrible pain, and she didn’t know if she could ever go through with it. Kristina gently, but desperately, clung to the little dog. A weak little lick sent her into another wave of hysterics.

Charmaine bit her lip uncertainly, unsure what she could do. She’d never seen her wife like this before. Even their wedding night, she hadn’t looked this utterly distraught. Awkwardly, she reached out to lay what she hoped would be taken as a comforting hand on Kristina’s shoulder. The other woman didn’t immediately brush her off, so Charmaine took it as a good sign.

She swung her legs onto the bed, moving closer. Kristina didn’t even have the energy to look surprised. She just sniffed, moving closer as she cradled her child in her arms.

“She can’t die,” Kristina said, grabbing a tissue. “She just can’t. Please. Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have. I don’t- I don’t know what I’m going to do!” Probably deciding she’d already lost her dignity, Kristina curled into Charmaine’s side, clinging to her.

Charmaine gasped in surprise, but slowly resettled and gently wrapped her arms around the tiny woman. Hushing her, Charmaine stroked Kristina’s unkempt hair. They fell asleep like that, Kristina sleeping fitfully.

Waking the next morning, Charmaine winced as her back and shoulders throbbed painfully. She hissed, cracking her neck. Nestled in her arms, Kristina stirred fitfully. Even in the dark, Charmaine could see tear tracks on her face.

She lifted her head to see about Daska, and for one heart stopping moment, she feared the little white dog had passed away in the night. But the slightly twitching paw, and shallow rise and fall of her chest told Charmaine she was still alive. God, if she’d died without Kristina knowing…

Feeling extremely unsettled, Charmaine carefully extracted herself from bed, sighing heavily as Kristina blearily blinked awake. She made a little noise that might have been a question.

“I’m just going out to get us something to eat,” Charmaine explained, tugging self-consciously on the hem of her wrinkled blouse. “God, when was the last time you ate a proper meal?” She didn’t like Kristina’s answer which consisted of a half shrug, and an exhausted sigh. She watched as Kristina rearranged herself around Daska, careful not to move her, and started reverently stroking her little stomach.

Charmaine fled, feeling vaguely sick. She ordered takeout for their meals that day, storing everything in the fridge. Kristina didn’t even protest to eating on her bed. She fed Daska tiny pieces of beef without complaint. She couldn’t stop crying, even though she’d managed to control her breathing enough to keep from jostling anyone.

Without prompting, or making much of a big deal over it, Charmaine crawled back into bed after putting away the food. She lifted her arm so Kristina could lean up against her. Wanting desperately to take Kristina’s mind off of things, she asked her about how she’d gotten Daska.

That brought a small smile to Kristina’s somber face. Voice hoarse, she started talking. About how she’d been just out of college, and rescued Daska from a dumpster where she’d been abandoned.

“She was just this little ball of dirty little fluff, barely bigger than your palm,” Kristina said, remembering. “I brought her home, cleaned her up, and we’ve been inseparable. She was…she was just so small, and sickly, and in the beginning, I sat up with her every night because I thought for sure she was going to- to die. But she was so strong, and- and I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Charmaine pressed a soft comforting kiss to Kristina’s forehead, just listening to Daska’s entire life story. She learned about her first day at a public dog park and how she’d nearly worked herself into a panic until Kristina brought her home. How, even all these years later, Daska wouldn’t go near any large dumpster. All these little details that Kristina remembered vividly. Charmaine knew Daska was the most important part of Kristina’s life

They waited up together for two days, and Daska grew worse and worse. Nala now refused to leave her side for more than a few moments at a time. Animals knew.

It happened early in the morning. Exhausted, Kristina nevertheless shot bold upright, gathering Daska into her arms. Daska whined nearly inaudibly, limply lying with her head lolling. Kristina murmured softly to her, more tender than Charmaine had ever seen her.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Kristina whispered. “If you’re ready you go. I’ll- I’ll be okay. I love you, honey. I just want you to be at peace.” Daska locked eyes on her, seeming to understand. With one final exhale, Daska went limp in her arms. And, despite her reassurance that Daska needed to move on, Kristina broke.

“Oh, no, no, no, please, please,” she clutched Daska’s body to her chest, rocking back and forth, desperately looking for a heartbeat but finding nothing. “Please, come back. Please, I-” She started to violently shake, gasping desperately for breath.

Charmaine wiped away her own tears, hugging Kristina tightly and rubbing circles into her back. Kristina could do little more than wail, pleading for Daska to come back.

Nala jumped up onto her lap, her own cries mingling with Kristina’s. Charmaine gently nudged her away.

“Kristina, darling, you’ve got to calm down,” Charmaine begged, stroking her hair. “Please, please breathe. You need to breathe. Inhale, exhale. That’s it. Come on, honey. You know it was her time. She’s at peace. You said so yourself.” She could do little more than let Kristina sob herself into exhaustion, talking her through it, and keeping her from hyperventilating badly enough to stop breathing.

It must have been hours before Kristina finally simmered down to a soft whimpering, her tight and desperate grip on her baby loosening enough for Charmaine to ease the dog out of her arms without hurting her.

“We can bury her, or call the vet, and- and see about cremation,” Charmaine said carefully, not wanting to set the distraught woman off again. Kristina shrugged noncommittedly, her eyes dull and glassy. “Okay, well, just my two cents, but I’m not so sure burying her in a flower box up on the terrace is such a good idea. We can put her urn on the mantle. Or, have her in here with you. Um, if that sounds okay to you.”

Kristina nodded, reluctantly dragging herself up. She’d barely bathed or taken care of herself for over two weeks. Dizzily, she grabbed the nightstand, head swimming. Charmaine caught her, carefully leading the other woman out of her room and into Charmaine’s own bathroom.

Mechanically shedding her clothing, Kristina allowed Charmaine to help her into the bathtub. With a small grimace, she murmured she’d be alright on her own. Charmaine nodded, but left the door open a crack while she hurriedly used Kristina’s bathroom to clean her own self up.

Washed, and dressed, the two women wrapped Daska in a small blanket, and placed her in a basket. Because no taxi would take them with a dead dog, they walked the fifteen blocks to the best pet crematorium.

When Charmaine took out her wallet to pay the fee, Kristina stopped her. She’d taken care of Daska her entire life. It didn’t need to stop now. Charmaine nodded, squeezing Kristina’s hand.

They told her to come back in about three hours, but Kristina refused to leave. So, after they picked out a simple but elegant urn, they sat in the waiting room in silence. Charmaine didn’t even notice how she’d kept holding onto Kristina’s hand. Only when someone commented what a lovely couple they made, did Charmaine pull away, blushing hotly. Kristina barely reacted, staring at a photo of Daska and Nala on her phone.

Charmaine left Kristina to clear the perfect space for the urn while she started cleaning up Kristina’s bedroom. Snapping on gloves, and grabbing the Clorox, she rigorously scrubbed the entire room. Her knees ached from kneeling, and her muscles strained to clean every inch of Kristina’s room just the way she liked it. The sheets went into the wash, and the new ones were tightly put on.

Kristina came into the room, starting to see it nearly sparkling. Nala mewled pitifully. She’d grown so very close to her friend.

“I- I wanted to thank you,” Kristina said, ducking her head almost bashfully. “For- for being, well, for being not you. I mean, for being you, but not you. Um, right.” She quickly scurried away, leaving Charmaine slightly flushed and utterly confused.

That ordeal left things exceedingly awkward for them for weeks. Unsure where they stood, they tip-toes around each other until finally Charmaine sat them both down. They decided, that while what happened had been a change in the normal routine, it didn’t change anything in the long run. They still didn’t like each other. Even if it wasn’t hate.

A few days later, Kristina snarked at Charmaine for still not being able to cook, and Charmaine actually laughed instead of getting angry. Relief coursed through her veins, as she snapped right back. This, this snarky banter, that they could handle.

And things were alright. But Charmaine’s life could never leave well enough alone. Because her youngest sister was turning twenty-five and her wedding was scheduled for the ninth of August.

Charmaine could tell, after over two years of living with her wife, that Kristina was a bundle of anxiety. She’d done and redone her hair half a dozen times, and all day they’d done nothing but fight. It was just like those first few weeks together, and Charmaine was too pissed off to recognize how much that hurt.

They didn’t talk on the way to the wedding. Charmaine hadn’t been asked to be part of the wedding party. She had two other sisters, much closer to the youngest, not to mention all those friends her sibling had. No, there hadn’t been any room for her in the party, though she and Kristina were at least at the head table.

Charmaine drank more than she probably should have. Maybe if she’d been more alert she’d have noticed how tense her wife was. How she kept her jaw clenched as she endured stares and whispers from the Prescott family.

By some cruel twist of fate, Kristina ended up sitting next to Charmaine’s brother. The same brother who liked lesbian Asian porn. He hadn’t changed a bit, and seemed to enjoy making Kristina squirm in discomfort. She flinched away as he leered at her.

The music started, and Charmaine got up to dance. She glanced at Kristina who just sat staunchly ahead. Rolling her eyes, she caught the gaze of an ex-girlfriend, who was now married to Orpha with kids of their own. The woman, Azucena, held out a hand, and Charmaine gladly took it.

“Your wife looks jealous,” Azucena commented, smirking slightly over Charmaine’s shoulder. “Bet that’s how you felt when she slept with mine.” Charmaine rolled her eyes, twirling the other woman around. She looked back, seeing Kristina glowering at her.

Her brother, ever the charmer, practically dragged the unwilling woman onto the dance floor, groping at her. Charmaine barely noticed, grabbing another drink from a passing waiter. She and Azucena spun around the dance floor, laughing and drinking.

After several songs, Charmaine and Azucena danced over to where Charmaine’s parents were swaying together.

“Sweetie, are you sure we can’t find you another wife?” Mrs. Prescott asked. “Someone more…appropriate.” Azucena rolled her eyes, taking her cue to leave. She didn’t understand why Mrs. Prescott didn’t notice her daughter seemed to have a type. First Orpha, a black woman, then her, a Latina. Then Kristina. For the matter, she didn’t know why Charmaine didn’t seem to realize it either.

“Mother,” Charmaine said, gulping down her champagne. She was more than a little drunk by now, but grabbed a glass of wine anyway. “We’re fine. Sure, she’s a total bitch, but we have an agreement. And it’s nice to have someone to clean up after me.” Mrs. Prescott smiled indulgently at that, evidently approving.

“But surely, she’s just some gold digger,” Mr. Prescott pressed. “You can do better, lovebug, than some commie girl from Nam. You know I fought her kind. You don’t know what kind of blood she’s got.”

“She’s fine, dad,” Charmaine insisted. “It’s not like she means anything to me. And don’t call her that. She may be a freak but she’s still my wife.”

A loud slap brought her attention away. A few feet to their right, her brother stood cradling his cheek in shock. He looked livid. Kristina backed away, but snarled furiously. Loudly, she said that if he ever laid a finger on her again, she’d break it in half. Mrs. Prescott clicked her tongue in distaste, muttering about violence on the streets.

Kristina approached her wife, looking even more anxious than before.

“I want to go,” she said quietly. “Please, I’m not comfortable here.”

“C’mon,” Charmaine said, taking her arm. “Just ignore him. He’s an ass but harmless.” Kristina wrenched her arm away, snapping that he’d grabbed her ass, and that didn’t seem harmless to her. Charmaine tensed, planning to give her brother a good kick later, but not now. They couldn’t make a scene. 

“Right,” Kristina said bitterly. “Because why should you care if your brother wants to sexually assault your wife. It’s not like I mean anything to you, anyway.” Charmaine winced. She’d hoped Kristina hadn’t heard that.

She reached forward, but in her intoxicated state, she moved sloppily, and her wine glass sloshed vigorously. Kristina gasped, the cold liquid spilling out over her chest, dripping down between her breasts, and staining the dress she’d spent hours agonizing over. They both glanced around, seeing most of the wedding guests staring at them.

Mortified, Kristina turned, hurrying away with her head bent. She looked near tears. Charmaine cursed, suddenly feeling much more sober, shoving her glass at a gobsmacked cousin before lifting her long skirts to chase after her wife.

By the time she got to the hotel room, Kristina had already shoved the dress under the cold tap in the bathroom, frantically trying to wash it out. She was crying, but it was different than the hysterical panic Daska sent her into. She looked almost resigned.

“I want a divorce,” she said, without turning around. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s not fair. To either of us apparently. I thought after…well, it doesn’t matter now. You can find someone else to be your damn maid, and deal with your spoiled bullshit, and your fucking _racist_ family. Because I can’t anymore. I spent two years hating you, and four months-” She stopped herself, finally turning around, and giving up on the dress. It was ruined anyway.

Kristina hugged herself self-consciously, grabbing the hotel bathrobe off the hook and wrapping it tightly around herself. Charmaine looked away guiltily. Kristina hadn’t been concerned about her modesty for years.

“Kristina, please,” she said, not even caring how pitiful she sounded, begging. “Please, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean what I said, you know that. I haven’t- I haven’t thought of you like that in years. My family, they’re horrible. I know. I promise I was going to kick my brother’s balls later. Please, don’t leave me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kristina said, shaking her head, and willing her voice to steady. “Because you still said it. You still stood with your parents and talked about your own damn wife like I was nothing! And I know. I _know_ you don’t love me. But I thought we could- that we might be getting- well closer to something. I guess it doesn’t matter if you know. Charmaine, I’ve- I’ve had feelings for you for months. I _love_ you! Ever since you stayed with me when I was out of my mind with worry and grief. I thought…I hoped we’d-”

Kristina slumped, wiping at her eyes. Looking away, she started taking out the pins to the hairstyle she’d worked so hard to perfect.

“Kristina, wait,” Charmaine said, stepping forward. “Please. I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I- I have feelings for you. And the thought of losing you terrifies me so much. Not because of whatever it was they said, or whatever _I_ said. But because I like you. And I don’t know when these feelings started. Long before Daska, or maybe after. I just know I’ll do anything. Anything you want, anything you say.”

Tiredly rubbing her eyes, Kristina climbed onto the bed, drawing up her knees. Charmaine’s confession had her totally lost. But, looking at the distraught and desperate expression on Charmaine’s face, she took pity on her, patting the bed.

Charmaine nodded, scrambling gracelessly onto the mattress. Her skirts tangled around her legs, until she impatiently twisted around to tug at the zipper. Kristina sighed, reaching forward to help.

“Thanks,” Charmaine said, remembering how she’d undone those damned buttons all that time ago at another wedding. Only now did she allow herself to remember how beautiful she’d though Kristina looked.

She flushed, pressing a pillow over herself. Sighing, she met Kristina’s eye, not daring to hope. But she could see her wife’s firm resolve crumbling.

“Things are going to have to change around here if we want to try this,” she said slowly. Charmaine’s face lit up, but Kristina held up a hand haltingly. “I don’t mind the cooking and cleaning. I like things done a certain way. But, um, maybe we could do things together? You can learn, or, at least help. And, I know they’re your family, so I won’t tell you to stay away from them, but I won’t go to anymore family gatherings, or parties, or anything. I hate the way they make me feel. The way I let them make me feel; worthless, simple, unworthy of you.”

“They’re wrong,” Charmaine said firmly, intensity behind her eyes. “They’re so very wrong. And, you’re right. I’ll learn to pull my own weight around the house. I can do that.”

She touched Kristina’s knee earnestly. Kristina smiled faintly, inching closer. Charmaine let the pillow fall away, pulling Kristina onto her lap. The kiss, for the first time, was gentle. No biting, or fighting for dominance. Just two pairs of soft lips pressed together, making the world explode. Charmaine whimpered, cupping Kristina’s face.

Reluctantly, though, she pulled away, panting heavily. She struggled to catch her breath, and control her racing heart.

“Wait,” she said, holding up a hand as Kristina moved closer. Instantly, Kristina backed away, looking slightly panicked. “No, no. I want you. I like you so much. And I want to do this right. Please. Tell you what. I’m going to make it special, okay? Make dinner myself. Candles, flowers, maybe a movie on the couch in our pajamas with the cat. Please?”

Giggling with joy at the thought, Kristina nodded, moving to climb off of her wife. Charmaine gripped her hips. Just because she wanted to take things slow didn’t mean they had to stop kissing. That made Kristina laugh, and gently pushing her wife onto the pillows. They didn’t stick around the next morning to see the newlyweds off.

Charmaine meant what she said about wanting things to be perfect. She rigorously researched a recipe that her picky wife would both enjoy and that she could feasibly make. Fra diavolo didn’t seem terribly difficult, and Kristina liked shrimp. Briefly she considered making a salad, but remembered that Kristina mostly only made the salads for her sake. She opted instead to try her hand at clear onion soup, and skipped dessert entirely because she knew Kristina only ate what she herself baked, and even then, not often.

Determined to do things absolutely right, she pestered Azucena and Orpha into using their kitchen to practice her recipes. They didn’t mind, getting an amusing show and free food. Never had they ever thought they’d find Charmaine Prescott cooking. Or fretting over wooing a girl. She’d done just fine enticing them.

“Girl, you are head over heels,” Orpha said, chewing on a shrimp. “Just be yourself. And not the self you presented when you first met her way back when. You were a bitch, and you know it. And maybe she was too, but you’re not your family. Be the charming, self-assured woman I know so well. Oh, and I’m sorry, by the way. About that thing. We didn’t do anything more than- right not important.”

Charmaine chewed her lip, concentrating on her food. She ran her entire plan by her friends one last time; the movie – _Carol_ , even if Kristina preferred Abby and Carol together – the flowers, the food. After reassuring her she’d be fine, they sent her on her way.

But, like everything in their relationship, it didn’t go according to plan at all. In the middle of making dinner, the storm started. Charmaine jumped as the power flickered. The soup was heating up, and the shrimp sautéing. She stepped away for just a second as the power flickered again, finally cutting out. Just enough time for the shrimp to cook more than they should have. She growled in frustration, but there was nothing she could do now. The stove was out, only working off of residual heat.

She wilted slightly, diligently plating the food. Because she couldn’t heat it, she served everything together, pouring two glasses of red wine. Without power, the candles became her only light source.

Charmaine removed her apron, anxiously straightening her dress. She glanced at herself in the reflection of the oven door, eying herself critically. She heard footsteps behind her, and turned around, wrapping her arms around Kristina’s waist.

“You look beautiful,” Kristina said reassuringly. “And it smells delicious. Let’s eat before it gets cold.” Charmaine smiled, allowing Kristina to drag her over to the table. Grumbling, she muttered that the shrimp were probably overcooked. Kristina just laughed, taking a bite.

“They’re perfect because you made them, and you went through so much effort,” Kristina said. “And I’m sorry the storm put a damper on our night, but I’ve got plenty of contingency plans. You know how I am. You, me, cuddling up on a bed watching _The Golden Girls_ with Nala.”

Charmaine smiled, blushing. She sipped at her soup, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. She didn’t expect Kristina to be the calm and rational one.

They ate in a comfortable silence, sharing small smiles and shy glances. Charmaine admittedly got distracted staring at Kristina, just completely in awe. Almost dreamily, she sighed, resting her chin on her palm. Kristina glanced up, flushing almost imperceptibly under Charmaine’s gaze.

With a smirk, she murmured that Charmaine should finish her food before it got cold. Charmaine nodded, ducking her head.

They washed the dishes first, then extinguished the dozens of candles. The last thing they wanted was for the home to go up in flames in the middle of their date night. Charmaine wanted nothing more than to insist she’d do the dishes later, but knew that would never work with Kristina.

Finally, finally, they rushed down the stairs and into Charmaine’s bedroom, giggling like teenagers. Kristina set up her laptop, the theme song familiar and comforting. Nala jumped up, curling onto Charmaine’s lap.

Despite how much they enjoyed laughing over the old show, they only got through two episodes before Charmaine closed the laptop, and Kristina kicked a disgruntled Nala out.

They could just barely see in the darkness. The occasional lightning flash made them both jump, but Charmaine stepped forward, trying to remember Orpha’s advice. Charming and self-confident. But when Kristina closed the gap, standing on her toes just to reach Charmaine’s face, Charmaine melted. She whimpered, fumbling with Kristina’s blouse. She growled, about to rip the stubborn buttons apart when Kristina, gently removed her hands.

“Don’t even think about it,” Kristina warned teasingly. She easily undid the buttons, and unzipped her slacks, until she stood in just her underwear and bra. Black, of course. Charmaine whimpered, growing flushed.

She stood frozen as Kristina pulled at the belt to her wrap dress. The red fabric fluttered to the ground, leaving Charmaine in just a pair of lacy burgundy panties and a matching bralette.

“Please,” Charmaine whispered. She let herself be pushed back onto the mattress, bouncing slightly. She immediately backed up to the pillows, Kristina instantly straddling her. Despite being already almost embarrassingly aroused, Charmaine wanted to take her time. She pulled Kristina closer, wrapping a long leg around her hip, and tangling her fingers in her long hair.

They kissed almost lazily at first, but it quickly became more and more heated. Once they started unconsciously rolling their pelvises against each other, the kiss grew more frantic. Charmaine whined, trying to get more friction between them.

Impatiently, she tugged at the clasp of Kristina’s bra, tossing it somewhere behind them. She saw Kristina wince slightly, but the smaller woman didn’t stop like she expected her to. Instead, she took a steadying breath, and hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her underwear, slid them off her legs, and tossed them aside with a raised eyebrow. Charmaine laughed, running a hand over Kristina’s pert ass.

“Please, I need-” Charmaine sat up, wrenching her own bra over her head, letting her pale breasts free. Neither woman was particularly well-endowed, but they preferred it this way. Kristina bent her head, taking a nipple in her mouth and sucking almost lovingly. No, Charmaine decided, definitely lovingly.

She gasped, arching her spine, and throwing her head back. Her red curls flowed down her back. Kristina, she soon found out, loved teasing. Before, they’d been rough and frantic, trying to get the other off as fast as possible. But able to take her time, Kristina thrived. She ran her hot tongue over a pebbled nipple, fluttering and rolling, and making Charmaine thrash in pleasure.

Instead of moving down, like Charmaine so desperately wanted, she moved up, kissing over her collarbone to the hollow of her throat. Though Charmaine felt her panties flood at the gentleness, it drove her crazy until she begged Kristina to please leave a mark. She wanted a mark to admire the next morning. Kristina happily obliged, sucking harder, even using her teeth.

“Oh, god,” Charmaine groaned, and Kristina could feel the vibrations of her voice at her throat. She made an answering groan, caressing Charmaine’s breasts in her hand. “Please, please.”

“I thought you wanted to go slowly,” Kristina teased, flicking a pink nipple. Charmaine whimpered, jerking.

“Screw slow,” Charmaine gasped out, pushing instantly on Kristina’s shoulder. “Oh, god, please. Please, Kristina, I need-” Her voice hitched as Kristina nipped at her inner thigh, before snaking her way back up Charmaine’s long body. Charmaine whined, squirming, but Kristina just hushed her, latching back onto her neck. She could feel Charmaine’s racing pulse under her tongue. Her fingers stayed trapped between Charmaine’s thighs, slowly gliding over moist folds.

Charmaine shuddered, drawing Kristina even closer, forcing the small woman to rest her weight fully on top of her. She loved that feeling.

Kristina stroked Charmaine’s soaked netherlips beneath her ruined underwear, brushing past soft reddish-brown curls. Charmaine keened, trying to get Kristina to go further. She needed more. She gasped, broken pleas falling easily from her lips. But, as Kristina finally eased two fingers inside Charmaine’s wet heat, the redhead’s desperate begging became nearly incoherent. Soon, reduced to only moans, she could do little more than thrash beneath her wife.

Almost maddeningly slowly, Kristina pumped her fingers in and out, adding another for good measure. Charmaine groaned, easily adjusting to the slight girth. Still atop her, Kristina tilted her head down, sucking on an aching nipple. Charmaine threw her head, gasping for breath.

With one hand still tightly gripping Kristina’s shoulder, she used the other to shove desperately at her underwear that still, incredibly, remained on her body. Grunting in concentration and effort, she managed to lift her hips – with Kristina still pressing down on her – to wriggle them off. They tangled around her thighs, restricting her movements even more.

Kristina sighed, backing up slightly to Charmaine’s chagrin, but quickly rid them both of the soaked scrap of lace, before immediately returning to her place spread on top of the taller woman. Charmaine sighed in relief, spreading her legs to wrap around Kristina’s lower back and hips.

“P-please,” she moaned. “I can’t- need – oh, fuck! Please!” To her unending relief, Kristina obliged, speeding up her ministrations. Her fingers rapidly pumped in and out, curling just so to brush against her G-spot with every stroke. Wincing slightly at the awkward angle, Kristina managed to press her thumb against Charmaine’s throbbing clit, rubbing small and tight circles.

A string of nonsensical words, riddled with curses, fell from Charmaine’s mouth. She frantically undulated her hips, greedily forcing as much stimulation as she could manage. Altering between deep and guttural groans, and high-pitched sighs, Charmaine’s mind seemed to stop working entirely as she lost herself in pleasure.

With one last stroke over her clit, one last bite at her breasts, Kristina brought Charmaine to an earth-shattering orgasm. Charmaine screamed out in ecstasy, wildly thrashing. Kristina just barely managed to keep her thumb on her clit, prolonging her pleasure as much as she could. At last, spent and wildly satisfied, Charmaine slumped back, breathing heavily.

When Kristina tried to move off of her to give her space to recover, Charmaine tightly wrapped her arm around her, holding her close.

After a long moment of respite, Charmaine gathered her wits about her, easily flipping them over. Kristina gasped, flailing slightly. Charmaine, now hovering over her and making sure to keep her weight mostly off of her, gently pressed a kiss to her lips. She could have drawn it out for as long as Kristina could handle. But, aside from her own dwindling energy, she wanted to see Kristina come apart.

Kristina smirked up at her, making a show of licking her soaked fingers clean. They both groaned, Charmaine staring transfixed before snapping herself out of it. Darting her tongue out to lick at a bit of her own juices that had collected at the corner of Kristina’s mouth, Charmaine smirked before moving down her body.

She nudged Kristina’s legs apart, pleased at how she flushed almost shyly in response. She wanted to tease apart the many folds, and gently plunge a finger inside Kristina’s hot pussy, but she knew the smaller woman didn’t like penetration. Instead, she lowered her head, pressing her mouth to Kristina’s quivering pussy.

Kristina whimpered, rolling her hips. She sighed softly, wrapping her thighs around Charmaine’s head.

Charmaine smirked, using her tongue to explore the surroundings. Kristina squirmed and moaned quietly above her. Indulging herself a little, Charmaine teased around the folds, swirling just around Kristina’s clit, but not going directly near it. She wanted to wait until-

“Please,” Kristina whispered, barely audibly. “Charmaine, please. Make me cum for you.” Charmaine groaned at that, not even thinking twice before obliging. She lapped hungrily, stiffening her tongue for more precision. She flicked and rolled, feeling Kristina’s thighs clamp down around her. She could tell her wife was close to reaching her peak.

Kristina didn’t make much of any noise, barely breathing as she strained, tightening every muscle in her body in preparation. Charmaine kept up her attentions even through her tiring tongue. For a moment she considered switching to her fingers, but just as she thought it, Kristina fell apart. Soft sighs escaped from her lips as she rode out her orgasm with Charmaine easing her through it as best she could.

They lay entangled with each other, before Kristina finally forced them up and out of their warm cocoon. Thought they stripped the bed, and quickly showered together, rather than remake Charmaine’s bed, they stole into Kristina’s room, curling up under the warm flannel sheets.

Still basking in the afterglow, Charmaine pulled Kristina closer, easily spooning the smaller woman. Naked flesh pressed against naked flesh, until suddenly a ball of fur wormed its way between them.

Huffily, Charmaine nudged Nala to the foot of the bed where she petulantly curled around their feet. Kristina just laughed, burrowing into Charmaine’s warm embrace.

“I want to try again with this date thing,” Charmaine murmured, her eyelids heavy. “It turned out wonderfully, but I was thinking.”

“How terrifying,” Kristina commented, but there was nothing but fond teasing in her voice. Charmaine rolled her eyes beneath her eyelids, laughing sarcastically.

“I was just thinking, we never did get a proper honeymoon,” she continued. “How does touring Ecuador and the Galapagos sound to you?” Kristina twisted around in her arms, turning to face her. She beamed excitedly, which Charmaine took to mean she liked it very much indeed.

Drifting off to sleep, Kristina murmured something that made Charmaine’s entire body flush with happiness, and her heart swell.

“I’m glad you’re my wife, too,” she answered, pressing a soft kiss to Kristina’s forehead. She laid there for a long time, just watching Kristina’s even breathing, until it finally soothed her to sleep.

As horrible as the Marriage Law had been, Charmaine supposed she couldn’t have imagined a better life. There was just one thing missing, and, a few months later, Kristina dragged her to a shelter. They named the little dog Ash, because she wasn’t Daska, but her own entity, and they loved her to pieces. Even Nala. Which, really, was the ultimate test. And little Ash passed with flying colors.


End file.
